


In the Dark

by mrstater



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: F/M, Innuendo, Mild Sexual Content, Pre-Curse, Secret Relationship, Servants, after all miss this is France
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 09:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11895024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater
Summary: Lumière and Plumette attempt discretion, but life in the servants’ quarters proves something of a challenge for two lovers.





	In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyarcherfan3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyarcherfan3/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a prompt fill for the microfic challenge on Tumblr, but this came in at over 1000 words. Which is just about right for a microfic about Lumière, I guess. ;) For the prompt _candles_.

In the dark, Plumette lies motionless, listening for the telltale signs from the other bed: breath deepening and evening out, a faint snore. Mathilde, the housemaid who shares her quarters, has fallen asleep. Plumette draws back her own coverlet, slips out of bed, and tiptoes from the room.

She must steal her way through the slumbering corridors from the female servants' quarters without the aid of a candle, but it doesn't feel dark. Her feet fly across the floor, for she knows the way. Even if she did not, _his_ light surely would guide her. Like the fairytale princess lured by the spinning wheel.

There will be a prick tonight, but not on the finger. And it will result in very little sleeping. The thought flits through her mind, and she claps a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Her silent laughter stops, however, when she reaches the male servants' quarters. No shaft of light beneath Lumière's door. Is he within? Asleep? Has she made some mistake? But how _could_ she mistake him cornering her in the guest room she'd been dusting and murmuring between kisses, _Tonight. Come to me again tonight, mon amour_? She cannot knock, lest one of the underbutlers or footmen hear. Just as she puts out her hand to try the doorknob, it turns and the door swings inward.

Plumette barely has time to glimpse the flash of white teeth in the moonlight beaming from the single high window at the end of the hall before the door closes again, now at her back as Lumière presses her against it with kiss after kiss.

"Ah, _ma chérie,_ I thought you would never come!"

"I told you I would. Did you not believe me?"

"I believe _only_ in you," he avows, lips and teeth and tongue making a downward path along her neck. "But every moment we are apart feels eternal."

So eternal, apparently, that he is already pushing her nightgown off her shoulder and hitching up the hem above her knees. Not that she's complaining about his eagerness. She tugs at one of the ties of his shirt as he nuzzles her bosom, just as keen to reveal his chest and slender waist. But…

"Lumière?" She peers over his head in the direction she knows the bedside table to be. "Am I hideous to you? Can you no longer bear to look on me?"

His head snaps up. She cannot see his expression, but she can imagine the sheer horror, hears it in his voice. " _Certainement pas!_ What could make you ask such a question? You know my eyes have beheld no more beautiful sight than you, my Plumette."

Can he feel her skin ignite beneath his palms and the pads of his fingers at his words? From any other man, they would be too much, but Lumière means every one, the truth of them burning bright in his eyes. Or would, if she could see them.

"Then why have you lit no candle?" she asks. For her eyes have beheld no more beautiful sight than her Lumière, skin golden and hair aflame as they come together in the soft flickering light.

A thought occurs. Perhaps this is one of his games. Let their other senses have the opportunity to know each other's bodies as well as their eyes do.

But there is nothing playful in the way Lumière's hands stiffen on her bare shoulders. "He is onto us!" he stage whispers.

Plumette's heart stutters. "The master?"

" _Non!_ Much worse! _Cogsworth_!"

Cogsworth! How? And what does this have to do with candles?

She sways slightly, weak in the knees that at the thought that they have been discovered, that one or both of them will be dismissed…or that to prevent that, they will have to give each other up.

Lumière's arm goes around her waist, firm and strong. "No cause for such alarm, _ma chérie_. Cogsworth noticed that I have been going through my candle allowance at a faster rate than the rest of the staff."

"Oh," she replies, heart returning to its normal flutter. "Is _that_ all?"

" _Oui!_ " He steps backward, drawing him with her until they both sit at the edge of the bed. "To keep old Cogsworth in the dark, we will simply be more judicious with our use of the candles. And," he adds, and she can hear in the lilt of his voice that a wide grin cuts across his face, "it will be more fair to our other senses, which we have neglected in favor of our eyes…"

Smiling, Plumette acquiesces to making love with him in the dark. It _is_ new and exciting to give more attention to the shape of his body and the taste of it, the sounds he makes beyond amorous words, how his scent changes, after.

Even so, her deprived eyes ache for the sight of him as they lay naked and entwined, fair-skinned and dark, the memory of the color of his hair feathered between her fingers not adequate. This will not do.

Long after Lumière's breath deepens and evens out, and he snores faintly, Plumette lies awake, until it is time to steal back through the corridors to her own room before Mathilde awakens and they have more than Cogsworth to worry about.

The next day, it is Plumette who corners Lumière in the dining room, murmuring between kisses, "Tonight. I shall come to you tonight, _mon amour_."

" _Mais oui…_ And the next night…and the one after that…and _every_ night…"

"That's a lot of candles," she says.

Lumière draws back, eyebrow quirked in confusion, a husky chuckle escaping his throat. "What?"

Plumette simply raises her own brow back at him, swishes her duster against his nose, and goes off with a smile.

She thinks the night will never come, that every minute that ticks by on the servants' hall clock is eternal. And Mathilde tosses and turns in the other bed for so long Plumette fears the other maid will have insomnia.

Finally, she stills, and Plumette flies from the bedroom to Lumière's. No light beneath it, or within, when he opens the door to her. She steps right past him to the bedside table.

"Plumette? I know it is dark, but do you not know I am over here?"

The sizzle of flame is her only reply as she lights the candle drawn from her dressing gown pocket. She places it in the brass holder on his table, then turns to him, illuminating him in golden light.

"You've been going through your candle allowance quicker than everyone else, but I've been using mine much less. Just because Cogsworth must be kept in the dark, doesn't mean we have to."

Lumière's laugh rings out, bright as the dancing candle flame, and he rushes forward to embrace her. "My clever Plumette!"

"Hush!" she chides, a finger pressed to his lips. "My cleverness will be for nothing if Cogsworth hears you!"


End file.
